winter's end (monochrome)
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: Antarcticite could run a clock by Phosphophyllite's complaints—the morning shovel, the afternoon ice-breaking, the midnight cleaning. Somehow, the already long list of chores felt never-ending in Phos' company.


**Title:** winter's end (monochrome)

**Character/Pairing:** Phosphophyllite, Antarcticite

**A/N:** written for the Antarcticite zine! I love Pho's and Antarc's relationship (the cute, the angst, the lingering pain).

**Summary: **_Antarcticite could run a clock by Phosphophyllite's complaints—the morning shovel, the afternoon ice-breaking, the midnight cleaning. Somehow, the already long list of chores felt never-ending in Phos' company._

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"Why is this so hard?" Phosphophyllite complained, their voice the only sound in the empty plain. Even the wind had died down, as though to listen in. With each word, they slowly dragged their feet forward, the snow crunching as they carved a path forward. A hand plunged into the snow and with a grimace, they shook it clean. "Every single day, we clear a path and every single day it fills back up. There's something wrong here, right?"

Antarcticite ignored them. It was almost a daily thing at this point, as consistent as the sun rising or the ice flows gathering. A pattern or even a spectacle. They were half convinced that Phos just liked to complain—despite their words, Phos never backed down from any of the tasks and that couldn't be out of any love for the job.

Phos puffed their cheeks, a pout in the making. Gathering a ball of snow, they threw it at Antarcticite. "Hey! Are you listening?"

It was a good thing gems couldn't feel temperature. The snow slid down Antarcticite's arm and they brushed the particles off distastefully. Babysitter. That was what they were, a glorified babysitter, and for a brief moment, Antarcticite wondered just who did this during the summer. There was no way anyone let Phos run around unsupervised. Casually slinging their sword over their shoulder, Antarcticite looked back at them. "You can just sleep."

Far behind them, dozens of gems were asleep, swathed in white as though the snow had buried them as well. Most life had the common sense to hide when winter came, the bright flowers and cheerful birds of the summer long gone by now. Not that Antarcticite would know much about it, their world was a monochromatic one, broken only occasionally by the black of the night sky or sensei's uniform.

Or now, for the first time, by Phos and their green eyes. Maybe the grass looked a little like that too, but it had been a long time since Antarcticite had seen spring, the small shoots of plants and budding flowers slowly growing after a particularly harsh winter. The memory of colour didn't last long, fading within a hundred years until it was just another white memory.

Though, even if they did forget Phos's colour, it'd be impossible to forget their behaviour. As though on schedule, Phos sighed, taking a small break as they flopped onto the snow and considered the offer. "You think so? My pillow is really fluffy."

"You won't disturb the others by joining them," Antarcticite added. After a week, despite Phos' stubbornness, they were useless in almost every task. Breaking ice flows, clearing paths, fixing things after sensei's naps; the only thing that they could do was run and that was if there was as clear path. Of all the gems to stay awake in the winter, of course it was the most incompetent one. Antarcticite could just sigh at their bad luck. "And I'm sure Sensei would feel relieved."

"I didn't really get to wear the clothes Red Beryl made." Phos cast a baleful stare at their headquarters before taking a deep breath and returning to the vast, white expanse ahead of them. Slowly, they got up. "I can already see Morganite's expression." Eyeing the snow distastefully, they cringed as they started to plow through it again. "I. Can. Do. This." They walked forward several steps before sighing and planting their face into the snow. "Probably."

"Really?" Antarcticite looked back the path they'd come. It was funny how different their two paths looked, one clean cut and the other a jagged line. There had been a time when Antarcticite had longed for other gems, a time long ago when Antarcticite had actually worked with others. Clearly, they had been wrong, it was far better to be alone than to deal with this. "We're only 500 steps from home and you've already taken two breaks."

Phos frowned. "500 long steps. I worked hard, you know."

"That is debatable." Antarcticite frowned. Running through their mental checklist of daily tasks, they started tallying the work left on their fingers. Ice flow cutting, snow cleaning, checking up on the gems, repairing any damage in headquarters. And they'd managed 500 steps. "We're behind schedule."

"The schedule is wrong," Phos declared, brazen and confident.

They were heading to the ice flows now, it'd be easy to lose Phos and never recover the body. Sensei would understand. Eventually. "And the schedule still exists—keep walking."

"Aye, aye." Phos mock-saluted before trudging forward.

In the distance, something cracked, as loud as thunder. The earth vibrated under their feet and Antarcticite crossed their arms. Well, it had been unusually silent for the past hour and Sensei, despite their words, got terribly sleepy. It'd be easier on them if they just rested with the others.

It was a day that Antarcticite never wanted to come. "I hope Sensei will sit down this time."

"I hope they didn't break the table again," Phos muttered, an annoyed look on their face. They glared back at the building as though Sensei could see or hear this conversation. "I just fixed it!"

_Terribly_, Antarcticite didn't add. Tapping their chin, they considered the sound. "I think it's a support column this time."

"That's…bad right?" Phos cast a worried look behind them, as though they expected their home to collapse any moment. Which, to be honest, could happen; this wouldn't be the first time that Antarcticite had to make any emergency patch after Sensei had accidentally destroyed something important. Maybe they should have moved Sensei to a safer room before they left, somewhere close to the pond or the outer boundaries of the building.

They both stared back at the building, waiting to see if something would happen. After a moment, when not so much as a dust cloud appeared and it was apparent nothing would happen, Antarcticite shook their head and continued to march forward. "We can move Sensei when we come back."

"That's it?" Phos chased after them and if Antarcticite had known it would take curiosity to move Phos, they would have done it long ago. "We're not going to check?"

"Nothing's falling apart, it can hold up till we get back." Antarcticite ploughed adamantly forward. This was their world, they knew every sound for what it was. "Sensei didn't break anything important."

Phos frowned, not entirely buying it. "What were you going to if it was? If…if the building had collapsed?"

"Go back and fix it with Sensei." Antarcticite shrugged. When Phos opened their mouth, ready for another argument, Antarcticite rolled their eyes and added, "It wouldn't just collapse, we'd have enough time to repair it before that."

"How do you know—?" Phos paled, realization dawning. "That's happened before, hasn't it? I knew that Bort didn't fix the hole they made!"

"Either way, it's fine for now." Antarcticite cut them off, sensing a long rant. "We'll deal with it later."

For all of five seconds, that shut up Phos. They actually made it another ten steps before Phos realized exactly what that meant. "Wait, that's even more work."

"It's not like we're on vacation," Antarcticite pointed out, a little fed up by now. Silence. They missed the silence that matched the white, scenic expanses. Or maybe it wasn't silent so much as quiet. The slash of a sword, the crack of ice, the crunch under their boot, all muted as though the white snow reflected sound as well as light.

"Didn't look that way when you talked with Sensei," Phos said slyly, a coy smile on their lips.

Silence. Quiet. Alone time with Sensei. _Private_ alone time with Sensei. Antarcticite was a gem with few desires, but Phos was destroying every single one of them. Gritting their teeth, they ground out, "That. Is. Different."

"Is it?" Phos waggled their brows.

"It. Is." Antarcticite hoped the cracking they heard was from the snow and not from their own body breaking in anger. It'd be hard to explain to Rutile or Sensei, though they had a feeling they'd understand.

"If you say so." Phos started to make another snowball, throwing it into the distance as they walked. "But seriously, this is really boring and really tiring and really lonely, how do you do this every year?"

"You get used to it." Antarcticite shrugged. "Besides, it's not that boring. There's a lot to do."

Phos looked at them like they had two heads. "You're just saying that."

"Sensei agreed with me," Antarcticite muttered, cross. There wasn't just shovelling and protecting in the winter; beyond the chores, there was a world that only Antarcticite knew. A world of snow drifts and specific weather patterns, a world that changed in only the smallest ways.

Unlike Phos, who's every emotion and idea showed on their face like a beacon. It was easy to read them; right now, the twitches of their brow were a timer counting down the next syllable uttered. Another thunderous crack echoed in the air, breaking the countdown as Phos jumped. "How do you get used to that?"

"Time," Antarcticite answered honestly, ignoring the face Phos made. Ahead of them, ice flows jutted into one another and they'd arrived. Finally. The walk felt so much longer with Phos. More interesting as well, but they'd never admit that aloud. Phos would just get a swollen head. "Ready?"

"For another break?" Phos suggested, a hopeful smile on their face. It was astounding how they could ask the same question over and over and expect a different result every time.

"After we've done our work." Antarcticite pulled out their sword, swinging it high above their heads. Strength, power, mobility, the cold gave them many things, making up for what they lost in the summer. It even gave them a position that no one else could take.

"How about we just do half of the work?" Phos yanked out their sword awkwardly, still not used to the size and weight. "My sword is worse than yours, I have to work harder."

"I think that's more of an efficiency problem," Antarcticite rebutted dryly, watching as Phos swayed with the weight.

They almost fell over before regaining their balance. Swinging it a few times in the air, Phos glared at the weapon. "No, it's just worse than yours. I need a better one next winter."

"Fine, fine." Antarcticite conceded the point, rolling their eyes. It was sometimes easier to just agree and shut up. "I'll ask Obsidian to make something better in the spring."

"Ohhh. I finally get my own!" Phos's eyes lit up and they bounced on their toes before dropping their weapon. "Oops."

"…maybe they should make something small. Like a dagger." Antarcticite winced as Phos narrowly avoided cutting off their own legs in an attempt to pick up the sword. "Or a needle."

"I'm not that bad!" Phos triumphantly raised their sword, a proud smile on their face as though they'd actually done something instead of just picking up their weapon. "Next winter, you'll see."

"Right, right, next winter." Antarcticite stopped cold there. Next winter. They'd never really considered 'next' before, each winter a repetition of the last one. Clearing snow, watching sleeping gems, tidying up after Sensei.

Working with Phos. Something new. Something to look forward to. 'Next' winter.

Perturbed by their thoughts, Antarcticite leaped forward. "Let's go."

"Ugh, you're a monster," Phos complained, charging at an ice flow despite their words. "Take this!"

As Phos bounced off the ice, Antarcticite resisted the urge to smile.


End file.
